


Relief

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drama, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-21
Updated: 2006-07-21
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:47:15
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8705632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Missing scene from "The Benders."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** Relief [might change later though]  
 **Pairing:** Sam/Dean [incest]  
 **Rating:** Between PG13 and R? Seriously, I suck at rating.  
 **Summary:** Missing scene from "The Benders"  
 **Word Count:** 2210  
 **Spoilers:** "The Benders"  
  
 

* * *

  
  
Sam knows he'll certainly be sore and bruised tomorrow, but right now he can’t really feel anything. Adrenaline is pumping and it's the best painkiller his body could offer him; he intends to take advantage of it for a little while longer. It also makes him more attuned to what is happening around him and so much more focused on his task; finding Dean. He doesn't want to think about what those creeps have done to his brother, he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. For now, he's sharp and he's determined. Still, Sam can't help but promise himself that if the bastards hurt Dean, there will be hell to pay.  
  
He enters the house - if one can call it that - silently, trying to pay attention to where he puts his feet. He doesn't want any creaking floor giving him away and the darkness is making it difficult for him not to trip. The house is dirty, messy - it's on the floor, on the walls, it's just about everywhere. It hangs in the air, too; damp, soiled, disturbing. It reeks of madness and malevolence, that's the only way Sam can describe it.   
  
A noise coming from his left alerts him to his brother's position and Sam's heart skips a beat; Dean is here, he's alive! The sound of his voice is wrong and Sam knows him well enough to translate the tone; Dean is hurt, and he's upset. Angry. But whatever it is, it's nothing they won't be able to fix later and Sam allows himself a moment of pure relief before pulling himself together and stepping forward.  
  
The sight welcoming him is surreal. Dean is tied to a chair, face bloody and looking like he went ten rounds with Mike Tyson but that's not really what is so wrong with this picture. It's the little girl guarding him that makes the tableau stand out.   
  
She's standing close - too close - to Dean; playing with a knife. She's not making a sound, not taunting Dean, not threatening him, and somehow that makes the situation even creepier. She's just keeping guard - no doubt on her father's orders - and she's almost lazily stroking Dean's face with the weapon. There's an eerie sensuality in the way she stands there and crowds him, in the way she slides the blade against his face, and _that_ is even more disturbing than everything else.  
  
The girl hasn't noticed his presence yet and if Dean has, he's not giving anything away. His brother is silent as well now and he's looking at his captor with an indescribable look. Maybe he's trying to assimilate the fact that a _little girl_ is holding him prisoner. Maybe he feels sorry for her. Maybe he even sees a bit of himself in her; a child who doesn't know how to be one and who obviously knows more about pain and death than a child ever should. And maybe it's none of the above. Sam will ask him later.  
  
Approaching the pair, Sam now knows without a doubt that his brother _has_ been aware of his presence from the moment he entered the corridor outside, which isn’t surprising, really. Dean's breathing is slightly erratic; whether from pain or anticipation, Sam doesn't know. Maybe it's both. The sound seems to echo in the silence of the room, as if it’s the only thing he can hear.  
  
When he's close enough, Sam can see Dean's eyes tracking his movements, and he probably has been since Sam entered the room. Thankfully though, it's discreet enough that you would need to be paying attention to notice, which the little captor isn't.   
  
It's almost too easy; before the girl even has time to turn around, Sam has her in his arms, holding her tight enough to prevent her from causing pain, but loose enough not to hurt her. She's just a _kid_ , no matter how crazy she might be. There's no way Sam could really do her any harm.  
  
"Shhh," he whispers in her ear, "I'm not going to hurt you, all right? I'm just here to help my brother, that's all. Calm down." But she's not calming down and she's squirming wildly in his arms, trying to get loose and screaming for her _daddy_. It breaks Sam's heart but she's not his concern, Dean is, so with a whispered 'sorry' to her, he swiftly carries her to the nearest closet he can find and locks her in, trying not to think of how dark it might be inside or all the scary thoughts that must be passing through her mind. He tells himself that she'll be taken care of once this whole mess is over and that maybe, just maybe, she'll have a second chance in life. Something else he knows, is that he's not going to forget her anytime soon. He's fought against scary and dangerous creatures in his time but, somehow, that little girl is the one who creeps him out the most, maybe because she is so _human_ ; no demon at work here, 100% human. Or what passes for human, anyway.   
  
A noise from the other room pulls him back to the present and he hurries back to where his brother is still sitting in the chair, tied up. Still silent, too, which Sam realizes is now creeping him out as well.   
  
"Dean, are you all right?" he asks worriedly before he carefully probes Dean's face, wincing when his brother does.  
  
"Sure," Dean croaks.  
  
"Good to hear." Sam doesn't believe him, of course, but he wasn't expecting anything else from his brother. Besides, he's busy untying him; he makes fast work of the knot, narrowing his eyes at the blood coating the rope and the dark marks that are decorating Dean's wrists. His jaw tightens at that; the only marks allowed to be displayed on that skin are the ones _he_ puts there, and it makes him angry to see those alien, unwanted bruises here now.  
  
He stands up when Dean does.  
  
"You all right?" Dean asks, and his eyes look almost haunted.   
  
"Sure," he replies, mimicking his brother's words. Then a certain understanding of the situation comes to him and his eyes widen when he realizes why Dean seems a little shell-shocked, and not because of the beating he obviously took. "Did you think that -"  
  
But Dean doesn't let him finish his sentence; he grabs his shirt and pulls Sam to him, pulls him into a rough kiss. Sam doesn't hesitate and kisses Dean back, sliding his tongue in his brother's mouth and kissing him roughly, urgently. It's clear that Dean's head was messed up with and he hates to think what _exactly_ went through his brother's mind when he was at the mercy of those madmen. The thought makes him shudder and, suddenly, he's the one who wants more physical contact. His hands slide under Dean's shirt and dig into his waist. He knows he might be hurting Dean just a little - though he's still aware enough to be careful and not hold the other man too tightly after the beating he took. But Sam instinctively knows that this is exactly what Dean needs right now; the knowledge that his brother isn't lying in his cage with a hole in his head. Pain is always a good reminder that things are real. Needy and desperate sounds are loud in the room but Sam doesn't know who's the one making them and he doesn't care anyway. The kiss tastes a bit of blood and fear and pain and that doesn't matter either - soon enough it'll just taste of the both of them.  
  
After a while, the kiss loses its urgency and Dean's hands relax on Sam's shirt. Sam's own are now caressing the skin in lazy strokes, not in any hurry to break the contact. But they pull apart after a moment; breathing harsh and faces flushed.   
  
"Are you okay?" Sam asks again.  
  
"Dude, why wouldn't I be?" And Sam knows that Dean isn't even trying to be a smart ass now. Since Sam is okay, of course, _Dean_ is okay as well - it makes him smile, because as complex as Dean might be sometimes, there's a part of him that is simple and easy to understand. Family is the most important thing in Dean's life, family is the one thing that matters above everything else.  
  
"I was just wondering why you were taking so long to come and save my ass, is all," Dean drawls.  
  
"You're always bitching, man. Always. And sorry, I was held up."  
  
"Hey, it's okay. I was busy myself; I was having tea with my new friends and having mucho fun." Dean shrugs then curses, raises a hand to his chest - not touching, just hovering, as if it hurt to touch.  
  
That's when Sam takes a good look at his brother, not just his face but his chest as well, and notices that something is wrong with Dean's clothes. He bends his head to take a closer look, frowning at what he sees. Dean tries to push him, but Sam just slaps the hands away. "What the…?" He looks at the burned patch of clothing and his eyes are automatically drawn to the stove behind Dean. There’s an intake of breath when he puts two and two together. "Son of a bitch," he hisses, "I can't believe - God, Dean did they burn you with - _bastards_! I shoud have broken them into pieces. _Fuck_!"  
  
"Chill out, man," Dean says softly.   
  
"Chill out?" Sam almost chokes himself on the words. "You're asking me to chill out when those guys burned you with, what, a white hot poker?" He notices Dean's tiny wince. "Shit, that's what they used? Fuckers."  
  
"Do I need to remind you they were going to _kill_ you?"   
  
"And you next."  
  
"We're two lucky bastards, that's for sure," Dean says.  
  
And Sam has to concede the point. They were damn lucky tonight; even if luck didn't have a lot to do with it. More like kick-ass training and sheer determination to stay alive. And a deputy that was pretty competent herself, which he hurries to tell Dean.  
  
"I bow to your awesome kung fu, bro," Dean replies, clearly amused, though his words are sincere and Sam knows it.  
  
"Hey, that's what partners do, save each other's asses."  
  
"Damn right," Dean agrees. "Of course, if you hadn't gotten yourself kidnapped in the first place, we wouldn't be having this conversation."  
  
Sam is about to give his brother a piece of his mind when the sound of a gunshot startles them both. They look at each other and the message is clear; they'll talk about this - kidnapping and burnt flesh – later. Right now, they have a job to finish. Or maybe not finish as much as wrap up. Sam has a knot in his stomach as he's pretty sure what the gunshot means. He goes to the door but a hand on his arm stops him.  
  
"Those guys... they are as evil as they come, Sam, do we agree on that?”  
  
Sam nods, though he knows where this is going and he's not exactly eager to have that conversation with Dean. Again.  
  
"If it had been another demon, you would have known what to do from the word go."  
  
"But they're not demons." Sam doesn't know whether he's trying to convince himself or his brother.  
  
Dean rolls his eyes. "A demon by any other name would smell as bad, why is it so hard to understand?" Then, "Why are you looking at me like that?"  
  
"You just misquoted Shakespeare to make your point, Dean."  
  
"So what?" And damn if he doesn't sound indignant. "I'm not supposed to know how to say Christ in Latin and now I can't quote Shakespeare?"  
  
"You're messing with my head," Sam admits. He tries to sound apologetic, but he's sure it only sounds annoyed.  
  
"Excuse me for not being dumb! Just because I watch Oprah doesn't mean -"  
  
"All right, all right! I'm sorry. And weren't you trying to have a serious conversation with me, anyway?"  
  
"I was, but you obviously needed a little time to accept that I'm right before we cross that door, so I was distracting you and lulling you into a false sense of security," Dean answers matter-of-factly with a cocky smile on his face, the one that always makes Sam wants to either kill him or fuck him…  
  
But it does make sense to Sam, in a very Dean kinda way. He also has to admit that the knot in his stomach has loosened a bit. "You're such a jerk," he can't help saying. "But okay, I'll keep that in mind. Promise."  
  
Dean nods and it sounds like a 'thank you'. Sam lets him open the door and follows him, hoping he won't _have_ to 'keep it in mind', that it won't be necessary. He still hates the idea. But maybe, tonight what he hates the most is the feeling that if the deputy did kill the father... he won't be judging her. Because if Dean had been killed he would have wanted revenge too, and he'll need time to accept that about himself.  
  
Fin 


End file.
